A Different Kind of Healing
by Onigami Nanashi
Summary: How Sheldon Hawkes got to the events he did in Healing Hands. Mentions of 911, character death, language. No spoilers. Companion story can be found at possiblycrazee's account. Can't link, sorry because of formatting problems.


**Title:** A Different Kind of Healing- Should be read with Healing Hands. Which can be found on this site at /s/2938725/1/

**Author**: Onigami/Ryan and Hawkeye/Katy

**A/N:** Many many thanks to Nox/BJ for betaing this monster.

And more to Hawkeye/Katy for writing half of it and putting up with my insecurities about this fic. And for giving me free reign to tromp around in her hero!verse.

**Rating:** FRT

**Warnings:** Has to do with 9/11. I hope I did it justice. Also character death and bad language.

**Disclaimer:** As much as I wished, I don't own. At all.

**Summary:** How Sheldon got to the events he did in Healing Hands.

"I got one! Sir? Can you hear me? Oh, shit! He's an EMT! Sir can you hear me?"

Hawkes flinched as the rubble surrounding him shifted and rose. He drew in a small breath and coughed out the dust.

"He's alive! Bring oxygen, water and a stretcher!" The voice was frantic with excitement. "Sir, we'll have you out before you can say 'Jiminy Cricket, it's a miracle.'"

More rubble rose, and with it, the level of clear air and the racket of outside.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh my god."

"He's alive!"

"It's a fucking miracle."

"I don't believe it."

Hawkes blinked as the last of the rubble rose up from his face and light assaulted his eyes.

"I-" he swallowed. "I'm okay. Really. I just got trapped. I was only down there for a couple of hours. When the floor I was on collapsed, that's when I got trapped."

"Son, do you have any idea of what the date is?" An older looking fireman kneeled next to Sheldon as crews worked to remove the rubble from around his legs.

"Uh, today's September 11th. My god, what happened?"

"Son, it's now either late on the 12th or early on the 13th. You've been trapped for nearly two days."

Sheldon closed his eyes trying to ignore the gut feeling that the firefighter was right. He only opened his eyes again when he felt himself being lifted onto a stretcher. He stared at the enormous halogen lights as the paramedics moved the stretcher across the unstable ground.

They stopped their trek momentarily as thunderous applause and cheers reached them.

"Wave." The paramedic nearest his head said.

"What?" Sheldon blinked grit out of his eyes.

"WAVE damnit."

Hawkes raised a hand as far as the restraints would allow and the cheers grew even louder.

The stretcher began moving again as the paramedic choked back a sob.

"You're the first live one we've found in… god, forever." The cheers and applause traveled with Hawkes and the rescue team back to the street and beyond, into the hearts of the searchers who had nearly given up all hope.

Hawkes smiled at one of the nurses caring for his every need. What he really wanted, though, was to get up and run away. He'd been hailed as a hero and a miracle by all walks of life in New York. The walls and any available flat surface in his room were covered, overlapping with cards and flowers and flowering plants and pieces of paper all with the singular purpose of telling him what a hero and miracle he was.

The only problem was that he didn't feel much like a hero. He couldn't even remember half of the time he was trapped beneath the rubble of the collapsed buildings. He felt like an imposter, taking the place of a real hero so New Yorkers would have someone to lavish their attentions on. They all wanted interviews, they all wanted pictures, they all wanted to know what it was like in the Pile. He couldn't give them what they wanted. Hell, he couldn't even keep his thoughts together.

The hospital was so _loud_. Sheldon couldn't hear himself think half the time and the problem only got worse the longer he stayed in its walls. The voices of other patients permeated into his mind and superimposed themselves on his thoughts. There was nothing he could do about it sitting in this bed either. He was helpless. Just like he had been in the Pile. Only now he was buried in his own mind, rather than in dusty rubble. Clenching his fists in the sheets, Sheldon's breathing hitched as the voices separated themselves from a mindless babble into individual voices. All speaking to him, all reinforcing just how helpless, how buried, he was, sitting free in his hospital bed.

'It hurts… it hurts… it hurts…'

'Save me…'

'Don't wanna die!'

'Switch it off… just let me die… please…'

'Mommy, make it stop…'

The last unceremonious, painful shove against his consciousness made Sheldon clap his hands over his ears. Oh God, the kids too? What the hell was this?! The gentle doctor hunched down in his hospital bed, welcoming the shrill beeping of the IV monitors as it partially drowned out the pain, other people's pain. Realizing he was hyperventilating, Sheldon clenched his teeth, forcibly calming himself down.

'Mommy… why does it hurt…'

Sheldon winced, pressing his hands harder against the side of his head.

'Damn migraine… beeping IV monitor's not doing nothing for it, either… hurts… hurts…'

Belatedly, Sheldon realized that it was his IV monitor that was exacerbating the nurse's migraine. He hurriedly brought his hands down away from his head, cringing as he was assaulted with more and more pained cries and shoves against his consciousness. The nurse came in, almost wincing herself as the shrill beeping of the monitor beat at her already pounding head.

She gave him a wan smile, "Shouldn't have to tell you to keep your hand steady, being a doctor and all…" she chastised him.

"Sorry," Sheldon lied, "I must've been leaning on it. Won't happen again."

The nurse smiled at him again, willing to forgive him anything, like all the others, for his miracle survival, "No problems, hon. It's due to come out now, anyway."

As Sheldon blinked at her in surprise, she laughed, "Did no-one tell you, Mr. Hero? You're going home."

Sheldon watched as the nurse carefully pulled out the IV, sticking a square of gauze over the small wound it made. The pained cries still assaulted his head, but he kept his face schooled into a polite mask, telling himself over and over, 'just make it home, just make it home.' The nurse shot him another smile, before nodding to the over-abundance of flowers and teddy-bears dotted all over his room.

"Will you be taking these with you, hon?"

Sheldon looked at all the gifts, feeling again like he was an impostor, that he didn't deserve any of them. The child's pained voice pressed against his mind once more, almost drawing a shudder out of him. He looked back at the nurse for a moment before shaking his head.

"No… I… no…" Sheldon looked down at his feet, then at the gauze on his hand before continuing, "Um… teddy-bears to pediatrics, flowers to burns, ICU and oncology," the doctor had to pause for a moment before he continued, "The… the cards go to Ground Zero."

"Oh, hon, that's so sweet!" The nurse gushed, patting Sheldon's hand over the gauze. "I'll let Maintenance know. They all love when they can take flowers to other patients."

Sheldon flashed a pained smile, slowly gathering his things together as his still-recovering body protested every movement. He sighed softly to himself even as he…

'Quit pullin' faces, Rita, I'm the one gettin' dialysis not you…'

… winced, strained muscles pulling. The voices hadn't gotten any better with the knowledge…

'Don't leave… it hurts…'

… he was leaving. If anything they'd gotten worse. There were more. More individual cries of pain. Instead of the blur of voices, like a crowded room, he could hear…

'God! Ah, it hurts! Painkillers? Can't you give me more?'

… more people. They were louder too, all demanding his attention. Never asking for it. Never asking for him by name, but demanding him and his full attention nonetheless.

Sheldon took a steadying breath and hoisted his bag onto one protesting shoulder. He grimaced, quickly turning his head away in the hope that the nurse wouldn't notice. He followed the nurse, who was surprisingly cheerful considering she'd had a migraine 20 minutes ago, down the hall, to the admin desk. He waited not-quite-patiently as the nurse shifted through the endless paperwork a hospital seemed to accrue. She gave herself a paper cut, though how he knew that, he couldn't say.

The nurse grinned triumphantly as she waved the release forms, "Finally! Now, if you could just print your name here, and here," she waited until Sheldon had done so, "Then sign here, here and here."

Sheldon signed all the necessary paperwork, before shooting the nurse a small smile, "Is that everything?" he resisted the urge to add in a comment about signing away his soul.

The nurse glanced over his forms, before nodding, "That's it. Here's your list of care instructions, your prescriptions and your insurance forms."

Sheldon nodded, taking everything, "Thank you," he turned away and went to take a step before turning back, "Excuse me?" he laid a hand on the nurse's forearm.

"Is there something I can do for you dear?"

"The child who's crying…" Hawkes trailed off as the nurse showed no recognition.

"Child?" The nurse checked Sheldon's paperwork one last time and smiled encouragingly. "You're free to go hon. Get outta here, Mr. Hero."

Sheldon gave the nurse a quick smile and hurried out of the hospital, trying in vain not to wince as the voices grew louder and louder, more shrill and desperate with every step he took away from them. Sheldon all but threw himself into the waiting cab, hissing in pain as his aching muscles protested. The cab driver turned around, raising an eyebrow, but Sheldon waved a hand, letting him know he was fine. Breathing deeply to cover the pain in his still-protesting ribs and the still-shrilling voices in his head, Sheldon quietly told the cab driver his address. The cab driver; Paddy, according to the ID on the dashboard, nodded and headed out towards Sheldon's apartment. Throughout the drive, Sheldon could see the driver watching him in the rearview mirror. He sighed to himself. He knew what was coming.

"Hey… hey, I know you!"

Sheldon sighed, loudly this time, "I'm sure you do…"

"You're that guy! The one they pulled outta the Towers! The Miracle Guy! Last one standin' or whatever…"

By now the cab driver had pulled up outside Sheldon's apartment building. Gritting his teeth and ignoring the burn his ribs and muscles sent up his back and sides, Sheldon grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, threw some money at the cab driver, pushed open the door and hauled himself out. He turned back towards the cab, leant on the window and looked at the driver, eyes cold.

"I assure you, sir, that in the three foot by two foot by five foot rubble coffin I was squashed in for forty-one hours and thirty-eight minutes… standing had nothing to do with it…"

Leaving the cab driver pale faced and stunned in the cab, Sheldon turned and stalked into his apartment building, stabbing the elevator button angrily with one finger. The voices still swarmed inside his head, reminding him of all the pain that lay just under the surface of the city that never sleeps. His anger faded as he rode up to his floor in the otherwise empty elevator. He shook his head and sighed. Picking up his bag again, he walked down the hall to his apartment and let himself in, voices still clamoring for attention. He shut the door with a little more force than was necessary, hoping to still the voices in his head with the decisive slam, but no such luck.

Three days and very little sleep later, Sheldon Hawkes was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. This was beyond a joke. The voices were still there, still demanding his attention. He could understand if the voices were speaking to him about the Pile, demanding… something… from him because he survived. But they weren't! They were talking to him about things that had nothing to do with the Towers. Cuts, bruises, contusions, lacerations, broken bones, illnesses. Sheldon let out a frustrated groan and brought his pillow up to cover his face.

'Shit! Ah, that's gonna need stitches…'

Sheldon let out another groan, muffled by the pillow. A wave of angry frustration surged through him. He flung the pillow across the room where it hit his mirror and bounced off. With a resigned sigh, Sheldon picked himself up and shuffled across the room to retrieve his pillow. He bent down, scooping up the pillow, glancing into the mirror as he stood up and blinked in surprise. Tears. There were tears rolling down his face. He looked at the pillow. It was wet. Sheldon scrunched his eyes shut, blindly fumbling his way back to bed. He needed to get some sleep. He needed these voices to stay quiet.

Four hours later, Sheldon was still staring at the ceiling. The voices still wouldn't be quiet. He thumped his head against the pillow and rolled out of bed. He shuffled mechanically over to the bathroom, splashing water onto his face and rubbing futilely at his sandpapered eyes. He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink and pulled a face.

"You look like crap, Shel…" he told himself.

'Aw man, I'm gonna be sick…'

Sheldon winced, leaning heavily on the sink, trying not to be sick himself. He kept his head down, waiting for the nausea, someone else's nausea, he thought bitterly, to pass. Still the voices kept on. He brought his hands up to cover his ears, like he had in the hospital. He tilted his head up, looking at his almost-grey face and tired eyes in the mirror.

'Ow… damn…'

'That's gonna hurt in the morning…'

'Be so much easier if my nose weren't stuffed up…'

'I'll call the doc tomorrow…'

"SHUT… UP…!" Sheldon yelled, slamming his hands down on the sink.

And, surprisingly, they did. Sheldon blinked. He glanced furtively around his bathroom, looking for what, he didn't know. Then, shaking his head in confusion, he turned back to the mirror and recoiled with a startled curse. Staring back at him were two eyes. Eyes in his head, eyes that should belong to him. But they were not his eyes. They were brown, like his eyes should be. But overlapping the brown, green veins of… Sheldon squinted and tilted his head… fire, maybe? lightning? darted out from his pupils.

'Damn it! Shit! This is the mother of all hangovers…'

'Oooowww…'

'OK, maybe I should call the doc, now…'

Sheldon sighed in resignation, bowing his head and looking down into the sink again as though it could give him all the answers. He frowned. The voices stopped when his eyes went… weird. If he could get them to go weird again, he could buy colored contacts to cover it up. Hell, if it stopped the voices, he'd wear a goddamn Avenger mask.

Sheldon brought his eyes back up to the mirror again. He narrowed them at his own reflection, willing them to go back the way they had been. His hands gripped the sink tightly. The voices pressed in on him again. He closed his eyes, relaxing his grip on the sink. This was ridiculous. Green lightning in his eyes? None of the reports and studies of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder had sounded like what he was going through. The voices... well, the voices themselves sounded like schizophrenia, but that wouldn't explain the hallucinations of the green light and the eyes.  
"You're losing it, Shel…" he told himself, eyes still closed.

Slowly, like turning the volume down on a car radio, the voices receded to a soft murmur. Sheldon blinked his eyes open, looking up at the mirror again. There it was, the green lightning-fire. Sheldon tilted his head to the side; it was pretty, in its own way. And it got rid of the voices, so who was he to complain? Still… he took a steadying breath, slowly closed his eyes and tried to tone down the lightning-fire, but still keep the voices down. The voices stayed at a dull murmur in the back of his mind, but Sheldon kept his eyes closed. Then apprehensively, he cracked open one eye. His face broke into a broad grin. Deep brown. His eyes were brown again. And the voices were gone.

Two months later he was cleared to return to work and met his new partner, a fresh faced kid from Minnesota or Wyoming or some other godforsaken state.

Two months after that, he'd grown cocky in his perception of his ability to control his powers and had made friends with his rookie, who'd turned out to be a lot more world weary than he'd expected.

"What do you have?" ER doctors swarmed around the new arrivals.

"Hank Brownstone, 7 years old. Involved in a MVA. Parents en route, just behind us." Hawkes and his temporary partner worked to move the child to a trauma room and let the ER take responsibility. He threw his gloves across the room into the trash, striking a small pose when they sailed in straight through the small opening.

"Stop your showing off." Glenn elbowed the slightly taller man.

"It's not my fault I'm naturally athletic." Hawkes teased back, pleased the voices were staying far back in the recesses of his mind. "Don't be jealous now."

"Me? Jealous of you?" Glenn continued as the pair walked out to the ambulance bay to clean the back of their bus. "Please."

Hawkes swore softly. "We left the oxygen tank in the trauma room. I'll be right back."

"Sure thing. I'm not going anywhere. It's your lunch day."

Sheldon flipped his partner off and re entered the commotion and panic of the emergency room. Spotting the tank on the floor, he made a beeline for it, trying to keep out of everyone's way. He'd almost made his escape with his prize when a small hand grabbed his.

"Don't leave me."

Hawkes drew breath to reassure the kid that the ER staff would take care of him when the breath caught in his throat.

The small warmth on his hand triggered a series of new, but not entirely foreign sensations. A primal part of Sheldon's brain stretched out to the fragile connection, flowed into the boy and began categorizing his wounds.

…_Broken wrist…_

… _Multiple contusions on the clavicle…_

_Broken rib, broken rib, ruptured spleen…_

_Broken femur_

_Slight concussion_

_Shock_

_Sprainedankle,indigestion,migrainejustmakethepaingoaway,heartattack,seizure,overdose,handlacerationohgodmom'sgoingtokillus,infection,cancer…somanyinjuries…_

The images, the diagnoses came at the EMT faster and from patients further away and triggered another deeply buried part of Sheldon's brain.

He forced his eyes open, unsure as to when he had closed them to see his hands shimmering with a soft green, happy looking light. The light transferred to the boy through their still connected hands and dissipated in the air, to disappear unerringly into patients.

Sheldon wrenched his hand from the boy's and collapsed into a heap, curled around the oxygen tank as if it was his savior. He reveled in the single moment of quiet in his head before darkness took him to an empty plane.

"Sheldon… wakey wakey." A singsong voice knocked on Sheldon's consciousness, startling him to full wakefulness.

"Glenn, did I ever tell you I hate you?" The EMT grumbled at his friend and partner.

"No, you really don't."

"Okay, so maybe I don't. Why not?"

"Because I have drugs and release forms."

"You're right. I don't hate you at all. Let's go." Sheldon cracked one eye open and winced at that small bit of light. "Why am I here again?"

"Crazy stuff man. You passed out in the ER, getting our oxygen tank back, which I had to do by the way, but that's not the weirdest thing. The weirdest thing is, after you passed out, every person in the ER got up and walked out. Including that kid we brought in, the MVA we scooped and ran. Massive internal injuries, according to what scans they took before he sat up, happy as you please and asked for his parents."

"His parents… They were right behind us… How are they?"

Glenn shook his head. "They didn't make it. Dad died en route, and Mom died on the table. It's harsh man. The kid's an orphan at 7."

"They… didn't…" Sheldon trailed off, guilt mixing with the memories of the night before.

_Green light…_

_The voices in his head quieted…_

_Too late for the parents. Oh, god, why the kid and not his parents?_

"Hey, sign this and this, and I can bust you out of this joint." Glenn shoved the papers at Sheldon and waited as he signed, then stood. "I'm gonna go find that cute nurse and get you signed out and then you're free to go, on the condition that you come home with me so a 'trained medical professional' can keep an eye on you. There's nothing medically wrong with you. Mentally maybe…"

Sheldon snorted, the need to keep his partner from worrying overriding the guilt. "A 'trained medical professional' my ass. Go spring me and I'll spring for pizza."

"Deal."

Glenn reappeared with Sheldon's release papers, a bright grin and a number written on the back of his hand. The two spent the ride back to Sheldon's apartment goading each other about girls, the Yankees, the Giants and the Jets. He mentally thanked his landlord over and over again for installing the elevator and made it into his apartment on shaky legs to collapse on his couch.

Glenn called, abused, and cajoled his pizza haunt into delivering to Sheldon's neighborhood and sat down with a beer and a smug expression. The two sat in a short but comfortable silence before Glenn got antsy and began exploring Sheldon's apartment.

He came across a small corner shrine to his remnants of September 11th and returned, looking more serious than Sheldon had ever seen him before.

"Was it… bad? September 11th, I mean. I hear people talk… and see them look at you. Was it as bad as they say it was?" Glenn asked hesitantly.

"It was worse. That sounds so cliché, but it's true. What people say could never add up to how horrible it was, living it. Even us, those who lived it, have problems verbalizing how bad it was."

"You were there, in the Towers when they fell, right?"

Sheldon nodded. "I… was the last survivor the rescue teams found. Truthfully, they didn't even expect to find me. My last partner went in with me. He… We never found him." Sheldon reached out for another drink and stared at his hand in surprise. He held his other hand out in comparison. They both were trembling madly.

"Sheldon? You okay man?" Glenn reached out and steadied the other man's hands in his own. "I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright. It… it's nice to talk to someone who isn't recording this or thinking two steps ahead to the written article. You can ask."

"You sure?" Sheldon nodded. "What was your partner's name?"

"Michael. Michael Lyman. I was his first rookie. I don't remember anything." Sheldon said, suddenly changing the subject. "From being in the Towers. I don't remember any of it. We went in, we were talking about whether they were going to have to tear the Towers down because of structural damage, and I remember hearing the call to get out. But that's all I remember until the rescue teams pulled me out."

The buzzer interrupted the contemplative silence the pair had fallen into. Glenn jumped up. "I got it."

"My treat."

"I know. I've got your wallet." Glenn laughed at the disgruntled expression of the other man and turned away to answer the door.

Sheldon's disgruntled expression changed as the other man turned away, bits and pieces of the conversation falling back into his consciousness. Glenn had to let go of his hands to answer the door.

His hands weren't trembling.

Sheldon looked down at his hands for a moment, then back up at the younger man as he walked back into the room, pizza boxes and Sheldon's wallet balanced precariously on one arm and a plastic bag swinging from the other hand. Glenn gave him a hesitant look, then broke into an answering grin as Sheldon smiled up at him. The smaller EMT put the food down on the coffee table and dropped gracelessly onto the couch. The two men ate companionably; talking about everything from movies to the cute nurse Glenn had his eye on to Sheldon's love life or considerable lack thereof.

Finally Glenn stood up, "Here's me yammering away at you when you're supposed to be resting. Get to bed, Sheldon."

"Yes, Mom," Sheldon said dryly, smothering a yawn, "You gonna read me a story and tuck me in too?"

Glenn snorted, "The only tucking you'll get is me tucking my boot up your ass if you call me Mom again…"

Sheldon flipped him the bird as he showed him the door, "Get outta here, I'm going to bed. See you on Monday."

Glenn waved over his shoulder as he got in the elevator, "Monday it is, and it's your lunch day."

"The hell it…" Sheldon shook his head as the elevator doors closed on Glenn's grinning face.

Monday came around far too quickly for Sheldon's liking. He hauled himself into work, raising an eyebrow at his grinning partner as Glenn came in and kicked open his locker, whistling a jaunty tune. Pulling his boots out of his locker and closing the door, Sheldon sat down on the bench and looked up at Glenn contemplatively.

"You got laid last night, didn't you?"

"Indeed, I did."

"And you're going to be horribly cheerful all day?"

"Indeed, I am."

"So, you'll pay for lunch?"

"Indeed, I will… HEY!"

Sheldon laughed, tying up his boots, "You said it, man, you said it. Said it like freakin' Teal'c, but you said it."

The two EMTs walked down to their bus, collecting the keys on the way and engaging in good-natured bickering about who was going to drive. Sheldon finally hauled himself into the driver's seat and pulled out of the depot, gesturing to Glenn to call them in.

"Dispatch, this is 1-4 David," Glenn's voice told the radio operator.

"Go ahead, 1-4 David. We have a call-out for you. A hang-up in Harlem."

"Harlem?" Glenn said dubiously, "Dispatch, are you sure?"

"Gotta answer 'em all, 1-4 David."

"Roger that, Dispatch. 1-4 David, out."

Glenn turned to Sheldon, "Harlem. For a hang-up. Do I still need to be horribly cheerful? Or can I move onto being whiny and petulant?"

Sheldon sighed in resignation, swinging the bus round and heading towards Harlem, "Whiny and petulant, by all means… but you're still buying lunch."

"This is _not_ a brilliant neighborhood to be in right now." Glenn complained, propping his feet up on the dashboard. "Especially not for a hang up."

"Oh, quit complaining. And just keep telling yourself this is time and a half."

"And what am I going to do with all the money we're getting?"

"Buy more porn?" Sheldon surprised a laugh out of his partner.

"It's about the only thing I can afford. Weren't they talking about a raise last election?"

"Weren't they talking about a raise every election?" The two kept up the light chatter as they located the address of the call.

"Shel… That's the address, right?" Glenn glanced sidelong at his partner.

"Yeah."

"… That's an empty lot."

"Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me."

Glenn only grinned at the other man's sarcasm. "Is it past ums bedtime? You always get crank- Shit!"

Both men dropped flat to the ground as the echoes of the first gunshot faded and several more reverberated in syncopation.

"What the hell!? What are they shooting at?"

Sheldon silently blessed his former partner for teaching him how to keep a straight head in all situations and began to worm his way back to the ambulance. "Stay down! I'm going to call for backup."

He ducked as a ricochet zinged past his ear and stopped dead as a pained gasp came from behind. "Glenn!! You okay?"

"I'm fine, got grazed. Get to the damn bus."

Sheldon swore an affirmative and continued his crawl to the ambulance. He slowly made his way to the back, praying that no shooters would have an angle and scrambled up through the door as quickly as he could. Snatching the radio from the wall, he sighed in relief as his partner pounded on the back door.

Changing frequencies, he scrambled for his friend's hand and yanked him into the relative safety of the ambulance.

"This is 1-4 David. We got-" both men ducked and Sheldon lost his grip on the radio momentarily as a succession of shots hit their shelter. "We've got shots fired! People are shooting at us! Send help!" He repeated the address and yelped in a rather feminine way as a bag of saline sustained a direct hit and showered both men in a salty spray.

"Jesus fuck." Glenn muttered, pressing a pad of gauze into his side and blinked salt water out of his eyes.

"Alright. They better be here soon. Let me see that." Sheldon peeled the gauze away and snorted. "That wasn't the best pressure dressing I've seen. You've still got a ways to go rookie."

He was flipped the bird for his trouble. "I'd like to see you do a pressure dressing on yourself, being fired at by people unknown."

"Well, there's no need to be so sarcastic about it."

Both took cover on the floor as the sound of sirens reached them and the firing intensified, followed by a police speaker shouting instructions that, predictably, weren't followed. The instructions were repeated and more gunshots were fired.

Neither man spoke as the gunshots continued. Small ceasefires became common, so common that the pounding on the side of the ambulance and call of "NYPD!" made Sheldon jump.

"You two okay?" A young looking NYPD officer stuck his head in. "That was pretty harsh, but we got the fuckers now. Your bus's been shot to shit."

"I'm alright. Glenn?" Sheldon twisted to look at his partner.

"Stitches probably. No big. That _sucked_." The younger EMT was pale, but levered himself off the floor and out of the confined space of the ambulance. "Remind me to never get shot again."

"Right. Will do." Sheldon answered dryly. He turned to the officer, "Is there a way we can get a ride to an ER now or do we have to fill out paperwork and all that now?"

"We know where to find you. Let me tell my supervisor I'm taking you two and I'll take you two. Chill there for just a second." The officer walked off a short distance and spoke briefly to an older looking officer and returned, victorious with keys. "The squad car's just right here. You'll have to ride in the back, sorry."

"That's fine. Thank you for the ride." Sheldon followed the officer. "We never caught your name."

"Aaron Sanchez."

"Nice to meet- Glenn? You okay?" The younger EMT had fallen behind, and was clutching his side.

"Hurts… little more… than… before." He took two unsteady steps and collapsed to his knees. Sheldon and Sanchez rushed back to his side.

Sheldon gently palpated the other man's side and winced when he hissed in pain. "I'm sorry buddy. I know that hurts. I think you got more than grazed. Aaron, I need to get him to an ER _now_. I think he's bleeding internally."

Each non-injured man took hold of one of Glenn's arms and helped him, as gently as they could, to the back of the squad car. Sheldon slid in first, and helped manhandle his partner into the backseat, placing two fingers on his pulse point compensating for a lack of electrical equipment.

Lights and sirens blaring, the cop pulled away from the crime scene, angling the review mirror so he could keep an eye on his passengers.

"Hey, hey. Stay with me." Sheldon muttered, groping for the now blood soaked and useless pressure bandage with his free hand. "You still owe me breakfast and your mother will have my head if I call her and tell her that you're in the hospital."

Even the small point of contact between Sheldon's fingers and the thin skin of Glenn's neck triggered a one-way flow of pain and a desperate need to heal. Sheldon fought the urge to heal in the back of the patrol car in full view of Officer Sanchez and god and the world. His train of thought cut off abruptly as movement under his fingers ceased.

"Shit, shit, shit." He kept up the litany of curses and gave a mental 'fuck you' to god and the world and Officer Sanchez and closed his eyes momentarily. He opened them again and concentrated completely on his partner.

The patrol car swerved as the police officer glanced in the review mirror and saw a green glow emerge from the paramedic's eyes and hands to flow into the injured man, swirling around happily. The line of curses grew louder and more pronounced as the green light receded from the injured man.

'Damnit.' Sheldon frowned and pressed down harder on Glenn's neck, as if that itself would bring a pulse back or help his healing transfer. 'Come on… Damnit!'

The officer nicked one of the safety poles pulling into the unloading zone of the ER. "Can I get some help out here!? A paramedic's been shot!! I don't think he has a pulse. His partner says it looks bad." He babbled as a stream of interns and doctors swept Glenn out of Sheldon's arms and into the recesses of the ER.

He approached the EMT, still frozen in the back seat cautiously. "Hey man, you okay? That was some nasty shit, but I'm sure your partner's gonna be fine."

Sheldon looked up with green-streaked eyes and shook his head mutely.

Aaron recoiled back slightly, but had felt nothing menacing in the happy green light that had flowed around the two men. "I'm sure. He's a tough cookie."

"He's dead. I felt him die and I couldn't save him." Sheldon clenched his hands, forcing the green light back into hiding.

"Let's get into the ER and check on him. But first, you might want to uh… ixnay on the Mystique thing ya got going on with your eyes."

Sheldon closed his eyes and mentally got control of himself and followed the taller police officer into the controlled chaos of the Emergency Room. They were told to wait in the nurse's lounge, away from the general hubbub and Sheldon was given paperwork that he stared at, the letters on the page making no sense.

Too few minutes later, a nurse beckoned the two to stand up. "The doctor will be here in just a moment."

"Is he…?"

The nurse only ushered the doctor in and closed the door.

"I'm-"

Sheldon broke in, uncaring of manners. "Will he be okay? Is he alright?"

"I'm so sorry, but your partner died a few minutes ago. He came in flat lined, and we were able to restart his heart, but after a few minutes, we lost him again. There was too much damage. I'm so sorry." The doctor nodded awkwardly and left the room.

Sheldon sat down hard on one of the mismatched chairs. "I have to call his mother." He said numbly. "And the rest of the precinct."

"Why don't you give me your cell and let me call the precinct and have one of them come over?"

Sheldon only nodded and handed over his cell.

Paramedics and firefighters from his precinct appeared and disappeared and tried to convince him to first leave, then eat, then gave up and forcibly dragged him away. He muttered his way through the hardest phone call of his life as he relayed the bad news to Glenn's mother and haunted a corner of the firehouse they based out of.

After three days, the other occupants of the firehouse ganged up on him and injected him with enough tranquilizer to knock him out for another three days. The voices stopped completely while he was unconscious only to return full force as the drugs wore off and Sheldon wasn't able to concentrate enough to block them from his mind. One of his friends on the force, a petite woman named Lara brought his suit to the firehouse and accompanied him to the funeral.

Sheldon cried that day, but after he'd hung his suit back up in the back of his closet, he blocked the voices and the memories from his mind.

The whispers about him, the sidelong looks hurt more than all the voices combined. The whispers about him, the sidelong looks hurt more than all the voices combined. After Glenn, Sheldon went through more rookies than anyone else in the precinct. The longest one lasted five weeks and two days before requesting a transfer. The shortest took one look at him, narrowed his eyes in something that looked remarkably like hatred and quit. It hadn't even taken ten minutes. Sheldon had later found out that the rookie's brother had perished in the Towers.

"He's the one?"

"The one who lost two partners in as many years."

"He's the one who survived the Towers."

"But he still lost his partners?"

"Damn."

"No wonder no-one will work with him anymore. No-one survives when he's around."

Sheldon finished another long day, pulling his blue-black jumpsuit off and stuffing it unceremoniously into his bag. This was getting ridiculous. Not only did they know he was seeing a shrink; albeit unwillingly, they'd also decided he was somehow cursed. And, Sheldon thought with a sigh, since he couldn't save Glenn, even with the new abilities he'd acquired after the Towers, he was more than a little inclined to agree with them.

"Hawkes! My office!" Sheldon's captain stood in the doorway and yelled.

The EMT sighed, but was strangely pleased the captain hadn't started treating him any differently. "Yeah Cap?"

"This came down from above. I think it's bullshit, you'll think it's bullshit, but ya gotta go." The gruff spoken man handed over a sheet of paper and sat back to wait for Sheldon's reaction.

"Mandatory therapy sessions?" Sheldon asked incredulously. He looked up and grimaced.

"First one's tonight. And, no, I didn't know about this before. They sprung it on me just as much as they sprung it on you." The older man rubbed a hand over his face wearily. "Tonight. 8PM."

Sheldon sighed and nodded and resigned himself to the fact that he was going and it was going to be bad.

"Sheldon Hawkes. I believe I've heard of you and your spectacular and miraculous rescue from the World Trade Centers on September 11th."

"It was nothing spectacular, and I'd hardly call being stuck in that pile for 2 days miraculous." Sheldon said tightly.

"Did you ever think that your inability to continue your work as an EMT might have something to do with the …trauma you suffered on September 11th?" The psychiatrist minced around the words and made small marks in a notebook.

Sheldon rolled his eyes. "I pass out once in the ER after coming back to work from a several month long hiatus, and you think it has to do with 9/11. All of New York suffered trauma on 9/11. Why aren't you seeing a shrink too?" The words came out harsher than he'd intended, but he'd never intended to be explaining his every move to a shrink. "For all you know, for all _I_ know, it was low blood sugar. Please explain to me why I'm here again."

"Some of your colleagues are worried about you."

"If my colleagues were worried about me, they would have talked to me. What is this really about?" Sheldon half rose from his seat and cocked an eyebrow at the doctor.

"How did you feel, trapped in the Pile? Helpless? Afraid? Angry?" the psychiatrist threw out, hoping to startle an answer out of Sheldon.

It worked.

Sheldon blinked at the doctor for a few seconds, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, "How did I feel?!"

"Yes, you've kept you're feelings about that day internalized, you need to…"

"How did I feel?" Sheldon interrupted, drawing himself up to his full height and scowling down at the doctor, "I'm assuming you saw coverage on CNN?"

He waited until the psychiatrist nodded before continuing, "Then you would have seen the people jumping from the Towers before they collapsed. Those people chose to jump out of a high rise rather than be trapped. They chose suicide over what I went through. Does that not tell you something about how I felt in the Pile?"

The psychiatrist was scribbling furiously, making notes, "This is a brilliant start, Mr. Hawkes. Keep going…"

"Doctor Hawkes," Sheldon corrected automatically, "And you're a goddamn vulture."

Sheldon stared down at the stunned psychiatrist and spoke coldly, "Thank you for your time. I'll see myself out." He exited the expensively furnished room and breathed a sigh of relief in the slightly more worn waiting room. He stood still for a moment, eyes closed, taking deep breaths, trying to calm his shattered nerves.

"Hey Elaine." Sheldon greeted the secretary.

"Hi Sheldon. Am I going to schedule you another appointment?" The secretary's blue eyes sparkled with mirth as she teased the man gently.

"No, thanks Elaine." Sheldon sighed and joined her behind the desk.

"That bad, huh?" She reached over and massaged her friend's shoulders.

"Yeah." He sighed again, in partial pleasure. "I think I need to get out of the ER and EMT lifestyle for a while. Go somewhere a bit less fast paced, get away from all the eyes. Maybe out of the medical field altogether."

"Sheldon Hawkes, I have known you since you were in high school and not once have you _ever_ contemplated getting out of the medical field. Not even when it was 18-hour days and 6 days a week. What gives?"

"It's hard. To… to be there, and to see everyone look at you because of something completely beyond your control." Sheldon stared at his fingers.

"Sheldon, my friend, I think I know something that can help you. You know one of my friends is in the ME's office, and he says that there's going to be an opening for assistant ME soon. If you want to help people still, and I know you do, this might be your thing." Elaine flipped through her purse for a New York Medical Examiner's card that she handed to her friend.

Sheldon tucked the business card into his pocket, seriously considering the idea as he left the psychiatrist's office. He was still considering the idea when he put his clothes into his locker the next day at work. Sighing as he realized he was going to be assigned yet another rookie today, Sheldon scooped up his kit and headed out towards the bus. He hadn't taken three steps when he heard voices from the other side of the lockers. Sheldon's mother had always taught him that eavesdropping was bad, and would no doubt have clipped him upside the head for this, but still Sheldon stopped, listening to the others as he heard his name.

"Hey… um… Ramirez, right?"

"Yeah, kid, what's up? You find out who ya workin' with yet?"

"Mm-hmm, some guy named Hawkes… but I never met no-one named Hawkes in the run through."

"Aw, kid… you poor bastard…" Sheldon winced as Ramirez spoke sympathetically.

"Lay off, Ramirez, give Shel a break… it ain't his fault," Kelsey, one of the few friends he had left in the firehouse, piped up.

"What? What's wrong?" Sheldon's new rookie sounded worried.

Ramirez kept talking, "Hawkes is Doctor Sheldon Hawkes, the survivor from the Towers. Lost two partners in two years. Now he can't even keep a rookie with him for more than six weeks 'fore they ask for a transfer."

Sheldon sighed, blinking back tears, as the rookie snorted, "Great, just great…"

Sheldon's day didn't get much better. Two MVA's, a shooting, a stabbing and a squeamish rookie who didn't know what he was doing or what he was getting himself into. When the day was finally over, Sheldon just wanted to smack his head, or the rookie's, he hadn't decided yet, against the wall. He was that frustrated. It wasn't like with him and Glenn, the easy banter that quickly turned into the serious professionalism. Sheldon winced, even now thinking about Glenn brought back a fresh wave of grief. Sheldon sighed to himself and pulled his shirt out of his locker.

He looked down as a business card fell out of his locker. He frowned, bending down to pick it up. New York Medical Examiner? The light dawned as he remembered the conversation he'd had with Elaine not that long ago. Sheldon looked at the card a little longer; perhaps this was a good idea. The dead couldn't speak to him. The voices would be a little quieter; he wouldn't have to worry about saving anyone. Making up his mind, Sheldon tucked the business card into his pocket and made his way out of the firehouse, head down, eyes to the floor, not saying anything to anyone.

Less than three weeks later, Doctor Sheldon Hawkes, former EMT, stood on the steps of the New York City Crime Lab, ready to begin his first day as an Assistant Medical Examiner. He was a little nervous, but all in all, he felt good. The voices were considerably quieter; his healing abilities were pretty much under control. With those thoughts in mind, Sheldon climbed the remaining steps and entered the building. Walking in, he saw a cop and two other men talking over coffee. As they saw him enter, they stopped talking, making Sheldon's heart sink. Oh no, not here too.

The older looking man shot him a small smile, holding out his hand, "Detective Mac Taylor, I'm guessing you're our new Assistant ME?"

Sheldon nodded, shaking Mac's hand, "Doctor Sheldon Hawkes."

The cop and the other man stepped forward, "Detective Don Flack, Homicide. Nice to meet ya, Doc."

"CSI Danny Messer."

As Sheldon smiled and stepped forward, holding his hand out and noticing that both men were really very good looking. The dark haired detective, Flack, shook his hand first. Sheldon resisted the urge to yelp and yank his hand back as a bolt of… something… surged up and down his arm. He smiled at the smaller, blonde man, Messer, and shook his hand, wanting to do the same yelp and yank he had with Flack. Shaking the two men's hands, Sheldon had to ruthlessly stomp down on his healing ability. The word hunters floated through his mind. He didn't know what they hunted or how they did it, but something in him told him that these two men were hunters.

"Doc? Come on, I'll take ya down to the morgue," Danny said, nudging Sheldon along with his shoulder.

Hunters. As he followed the smaller man down to the morgue Sheldon's lips curled up into a small smile. This was going to be interesting.


End file.
